


Just Peachy

by seashadows



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bruises, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, poor Crowley needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 22:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: It turns out that being thrown to the floor by a fire hose hurts a hell of a lot. And Crowley knows plenty about hell.Good thing he's not alone.





	Just Peachy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [weatheredlaw](weatheredlaw.tumblr.com) for the wonderful beta job!

Adrenaline was a hell of a drug, even for a demon.

Being thrown into the floor by a massive blast of hose water didn’t do the connective tissue or musculoskeletal system any favors. However, combining this fact with the aforementioned fact neatly explained how said demon could go for hours or more without noticing that he’d begun to bruise like an overripe peach.

The pain had only begun to build some time after he brought Aziraphale back to his flat. It started in his ribs, a dull ache that woke him several times in the night to announce that it was amping up a few notches, thank you very much so enjoy a bad night’s sleep. By the time his 4:37 AM jolt of consciousness rolled around, his entire back and right side had gotten in on the fun. He was struggling to cover up a limp by the time he and Aziraphale poured into each other’s bodies – and then, relief. Crowley almost sighed as he adjusted to being free of pain again.

He watched Aziraphale’s face and detected nothing out of the ordinary. “Right,” he said, trying for Aziraphale’s disgustingly jaunty attitude. “Let’s go see the damage.”

“Absolutely,” said Aziraphale. He flashed him a frighteningly accurate impersonation of the smirk Crowley had broken a few mirrors trying to perfect. “Onward!”

It wasn’t until Crowley strode through the park in Aziraphale’s body, after having thoroughly scared everyone up in Heaven into submission, that he remembered the condition he’d left his own body in. _Maybe it’s not so bad, _he thought with uncharacteristic optimism as he grabbed Aziraphale’s hand. _Maybe it’s healed by now. I’m a demon – who knows, maybe –_

Then he slid back into his own skin and immediately came under the impression that he’d been hit by a lorry.

“Ghhh,” said Crowley, allowing himself only a fraction of the second for the exhale. Time to suit up and be an adult[1] about the whole pain thing. Humans dealt with pain every day, didn’t they? He’d invented a fair few of the inflammatory diseases that caused it. Fun stuff, that. “A tartan collar? Really?”

“Tartan is _stylish_,” Aziraphale said indignantly. Just like that, Crowley was on familiar ground again.

They were most of the way through their entrées at the Ritz[2] when Aziraphale sighed, put down his fork, and gave Crowley his strongest we-need-to-talk expression. “Crowley,” he said, “when were you going to tell me that you’re in pain?”

Crowley’s lips worked with the effort to say something, anything. “Um.” Not the most eloquent of words, but it was a start. “I feel fine, angel. Come on, let’s talk about something else. How’s this wine?” He held up his champagne flute, making the wine inside slosh dangerously close to the rim. “Eh?”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale fixed him with a gimlet stare. “You’re bruised from tip to toe. What happened to you?”

“Well, uh.” Crowley scratched the back of his neck. “Would you believe me if I said you should see the other guy?” Aziraphale raised one fair eyebrow and took a sip of his drink. “Oh, fine.” Looked like he wasn’t getting out of this one so easily. “When I went to the bookshop to look for you, the fire brigade was there. Putting out the fire.”

“They tend to do that.”

“Yeah.” Crowley tried for a shrug, but fell short. Sore shoulders were worse than those unending Hell meetings. “I went in looking for you, and…” He blinked hard and swallowed to clear the lump in his throat. “They put on the hose. Broke the window and kind of, er, put me on my arse.”

Aziraphale put down his glass. “Wait, you were _hit?_”

“Yeah. Not a big deal. I got back up and –“

“Crowley, that could have killed you!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Or at least hurt you severely. You’re lucky you escaped with bruises, you – you stubborn thing! The holy water helped _me _feel better, but you must be in agony!”

“Because of the holy water?”

Aziraphale shook his head in exasperation. “No, you ridiculous demon, because of the bruises!”

Crowley leaned across the table and immediately regretted it as his ribs protested. “I’m not that bruised. It’ll be all right, really. I’ll just go home, sleep it off, maybe have some of the good stuff.”

“Oh, no, you’re not.” Aziraphale’s chest puffed out with a long, indignant-sounding breath. “As soon as we’re finished here, I’m taking you back to your flat. You _will _lie down, and you _will _let me take care of those bruises for you. I’m the reason you have them.”

“Aziraphale, come on.”

“No.” Aziraphale’s eyes blazed at him. “Crowley, please.” He laid his hand lightly on top of Crowley’s. “I’ll take care of the check.”

Crowley did his best approximation of Aziraphale’s usual pout. “At least let me do that.”

“Oh, fine.” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand. Crowley resisted the urge to touch his own face and see if it was actually on fire, or if he was just blushing. “You successfully tempted me, dear boy. I suppose I can allow you to convince me as well.”

The walk back to his flat was quiet. On the one hand, Crowley appreciated the time alone with his thoughts; on the other, now that Aziraphale had brought it up, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he hurt. This wasn’t a sensation of flames – those, he would have been able to ignore, or at least consign to the general category of “been there, done that.” No, this was crushing pain, a deep ache that flared up whenever he moved wrong. Or moved at all.[3]

Aziraphale went ahead and pushed the door open when they arrived. As it had on the few occasions that he’d visited before, it opened smoothly under his hand. Crowley gave it the stink-eye[4] as he went in. Every second that went by had him feeling more and more like some lumbering hellbeast. “Do you have anything for pain here?” Aziraphale asked. “Paracetamol, heating pads, anything along those lines?”

“Nah,” Crowley said. “I don’t think they work on me.” He’d had an aspirin once and it made him see weird things, but then again, that might have been the 437 scary stories he’d binge-read online first.[5]

“I see.” Aziraphale tapped his fingers against his lips. “I do know that you have a shower.”

“’Course.” Aziraphale had, in fact, used it the previous night. _I’m covered in airbase grime,_ he complained, and Crowley had been all too happy to offer. There was something soothing about being in a small, steamy space that you couldn’t replicate when you miracled yourself clean. “Do you want one?”

Aziraphale shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “No, you silly thing, I want _you _to have one. A warm shower is good for pain, I’ve heard. Then you can hop into bed and I’ll take care of your bruises.”

Crowley’s belly warmed, like he’d drunk a glass of Burgundy slowly enough to let the heat curl inside him. “Are you sure?”

Aziraphale touched his elbow. “I don’t like seeing you in pain, especially if it’s my fault. I care deeply about you, Crowley. Is it so difficult to believe that I’d like to take care of you?”

Crowley leaned forward and kissed him, just a gentle press of his mouth. His eyes slid closed as Aziraphale let out a soft, contented noise and parted his lips. His palms rested lightly on Crowley’s waist. “Mm…” Then he pulled away like the touch had burned him. “Oh, no,” he said. “Oh, dear. I don’t want to aggravate your hurts.”

So it wasn’t repulsion. Crowley’s shoulders slumped in relief. “It’s okay, angel. Seriously.”

Aziraphale leaned up and kissed the tip of his nose. Crowley couldn’t help smiling at the silliness of the gesture, how very _Aziraphale _it was. “The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you,” he said, and slid Crowley’s glasses off his nose. “Into the shower, darling. Take as long as you need. I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

Crowley felt his mouth curl slowly into a smile. _Darling_ – he liked the way that sounded. “Okay.”

He took his time washing. The pounding water felt good on his sore back and hips, although he learned the hard way that letting it run over the bruises on his side just made him hiss. The heat made him sleepy; in fact, he could have fallen asleep in there if not for the knowledge that Aziraphale was waiting on the other side of the door.

An angel waiting for you beat turning into a snake and falling asleep in the shower any day.[6]

When he finally stumbled out and went into the bedroom, he found his softest set of pajamas laid out on the bed. Aziraphale was sitting on the edge, his arms piled high with rolled-up towels. His eyes lit up as Crowley came through the door, although he didn’t know why – he was just wrapped in a bathrobe that made him look, in his opinion, like a very cool skeleton. “Did that help at all?”

“A little, thanks. And thanks for that.” Crowley nodded at the pajamas and snapped his fingers. His robe dropped to the floor, replaced by the T-shirt and trousers. “What did you want me to do?”

Aziraphale put down his towel pile. “On the bed, sweet.” Crowley obediently climbed up. It was strangely nice to see Aziraphale looming over him, to give up control to him. “I’ve brought you some nice hot towels. Lie still and I’ll put them on.”

“Mm-hm.” Crowley closed his eyes and hissed as Aziraphale put the first towel over his belly. “Feels good, angel. You miracle these warm?”

“Well,” said Aziraphale, his voice full of merriment, “if Head Office want to chastise me for this, I think I’ll be able to put the fear of, well, _me _in them.” He smoothed a towel across Crowley’s thighs. “That’s it, just relax.”

Crowley let out a long sigh that shuddered through his whole battered body. This was better than a heat lamp. “Keep going.”

Aziraphale ended up covering him in towels from his neck to his calves, which was about what Crowley expected. What surprised him was Aziraphale getting into bed beside him and slipping an arm around his waist, letting the other lie across his chest. “Better, dear?” His voice was soothing sunshine against Crowley’s ear. “Is this all right?”

“Yhhh. Perfect,” Crowley said. He thought he could lie there forever[7], warm to his toes and half-covered with an affectionate angel. How long had he been craving this kind of contact? More importantly, how many more millennia would he have let himself go without Aziraphale’s touch, just on the stupid hope that it might happen someday? “Angel?”

“Yes?” Aziraphale kissed his cheek. Crowley could feel every flutter of his eyelashes against is skin. “Do you need something?”

“Just you.” Crowley turned his head, careful not to jostle the towels, and looked Aziraphale full in the face. “Stay until I’m healed up?”

Aziraphale wound his fingers through Crowley’s hair. His hand was solid and comforting at the back of his head. “Of course, dearest,” he said. His face relaxed into the softest, sweetest expression Crowley had seen in a while. “It’s so nice to be able to say that to you now.”

“Join the club,” Crowley said, “we’ve got jackets,” and relished his angel’s laugh. 

* * *

[1] Inasmuch as a demon could really be an adult about any situation, rather than a demon.

[2] Well, Aziraphale’s entrée and Crowley’s destined-to-be-Aziraphale’s-leftovers.

[3] Or breathed. At least he could choose when he did that.

[4] The more accurate term, in this case, would probably be “snake-eye.”

[5] He especially liked Behind You. It reminded him of the more fun aspects of Hell.

[6] He’d done that before, mostly when he was feeling depressed. The 19th-century version had involved falling asleep in the bath and only coming to when the water was stone cold.

[7] Or until the sun turned into a red giant and engulfed the planet – whichever came second.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm godihatethisfreakingcat on Tumblr. :)


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